Shattering The Darkness
by Isodriel
Summary: The last Slayer travels back in time to ask for the help of the most powerful Slayer in history and her lover, the Vampire with a Soul... (Ch III: Spike makes a grand entrance, to Buffy's shock and disbelief. And he's there for a very important reason...)
1. Droplets

**Author's Note: **First of all: I'm back, and I couldn't be happier about it. I'm going to be really stressed over the next year – with my IGCSEs coming up, it's a miracle I've found time to write at all – but hopefully I'll be able to update every week at the very least.

For those of you who didn't see it, I recently posted a sequel to "Road Trip". When I realized that the storyline wasn't going anywhere, though, I decided to put in on hold and start something else instead; the idea for this fic has been hovering in my mind for some time now, and I think I've developed it enough to make a full-length fic out of.

As always, I tend to be a little over-detailed in my writing, but I think it takes a lot of description to set just the right mood for something… And this fic is going to have a lot of moods, trust me. 

Mainly, though, it might be a little darker than my usual work – which, I know, isn't neccessarily a bad thing. I think the entire BtVS and "Angel" concepts have been twisted out of proportion far too many times, and I want to give them back their original quality in this fic. 

Just in case: this fic should be read in Verdana point size 8 (I find it gives the best effect) and although the first chapter focuses on my new characters, the second one will involve the Buffy/Angel cast. 

I think that's all for now.

And so, ladies and gentlemen, it begins… 

**Chapter**** I: Droplets**

**R**ain lashed against the glass of a window that covered almost an entire wall, blurring the striking panoramic view of the city below. It was far past sundown, and the velvety darkness of the night was pierced by the millions of brilliant electric lights scattered across the city, like tightly-knit clusters of stars. Hovercraft milled over the streets below, drifting just off the ground, and high above them aeromotons patrolled the skies, the spotlights fixed to their bases sweeping through the rain in slow, purposeful succession. 

The young woman leaning against the cool glass window knew what they were searching for, and knew that they searched in vain. 

Night after night, hundreds of people disappeared from the streets of the city, never to be seen or heard from again... unless, of course, their attackers had the courtesy to leave their mangled carcasses where the City Watch could find them. 

And it was steadily getting worse. People were no longer safe in their own homes, no matter how hard they tried to convince themselves otherwise. They fixed numerous locks and chains to their doors, bought complicated security systems, hid weapons under their beds or amongst sofa cushions, and considered themselves safe. 

But the invisible attackers who tormented the city would not be kept at bay by doors they could rip off the hinges and weapons they could easily snap in two. 

Out of the millions of citizens struggling to survive, only a handful had a clear idea of what was really happening to them. 

And one of those few people stood there now, gazing through droplet-encrusted glass at the vast metropolitan city which had been her home for almost eighteen years. 

She ran her fingers gently over the outlines of a droplet, her face deceptively calm and expressionless. Inside her, a passionate fury was raging: but years of experience and suffering had taught her the value of curbing her emotions and keeping them hidden from the eyes of others. 

She heard movement behind her - and suddenly her entire being was tense, her senses sharpening as she carefully shifted her position to a wary, alert stance from which she could easily spring into combat.

But she was disarmed by the familiar sensation of someone's strong, lean arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her into an embrace that was as well-known to her as her own reflection. 

She turned her head to welcome her companion with a gentle brush of her lips against his, and then turned back to the scene that had absorbed her attention for the past few hours. 

He brushed away a curl of hair from her neck, his fingers warm on her skin, and spoke with a voice that was almost designed to soothe her, it was so rich and warm and calm.

"Brooding will never do you any good," he admonished gently. "You should be resting."

She almost laughed. "Resting? Now? At a time like this, nothing could be more impossible."

"Autumn…" she had always loved the way he said her name. So softly. "If you have to do this, at least do it right."

"You make it sound as though I had a choice," she said, tensing ever so slightly in his arms.

He sighed. "You know how I feel about the whole idea. It's not safe."

"Nothing is ever risk-free," she pointed out, gently disengaging his arms from around her waist. She turned and looked up at him, every beloved detail of his face clear in her mind. "I have to do this, Alec."

"I know. I just wish you didn't." And as they kissed, Autumn realized how strongly he felt about it, and knew there was nothing she could do to ease his fear for her.

"I'll be back before you even have time to miss me," she promised, surprised to find herself whispering. 

"Who said I was going to miss you?" he whispered back, a smile passing across his lips. 

Autumn clung to him one last time, breathing in the light, musky scent that exclusively belonged to him and fervently hoping that she would soon be able to enjoy that scent again. 

And then she turned away and walked across the room, feeling his gaze fixed on her all the while. He watched her, immobile and oblivious to anything else, as she left and he heard the lock click softly behind her.

It took him a long time to turn his gaze away from the door that the one thing he loved above all else had just disappeared through.

**To Be Continued. **

**Author's Note: **Reviews, replies and opinions are all very welcome.


	2. Sweet Torture

****

**Chapter**** II: Sweet Torture******

**I**t wasn't the sunlight that woke her. Nor was it the blend of voices and laughter that could dimly be heard through the door of her bedroom, or the soft chirping of birds outside the window…

It was him. His presence. Knowing that he was standing there, just outside of the bedroom threshold, waiting patiently for her to wake up. 

A fierce, electrical tingling sensation was coursing through her body and she relished it, knowing it for what it was and cherishing the knowledge: it was a sensation that she had thought she would never experience again, one that touched her as deeply now as it had that very first time she had felt it, so very long ago. 

There was only one name she could give to the source of what she was experiencing, and he was standing just a few feet away, on the other side of a door.

"Angel. Hi." She sounded slightly breathless and her hair was still messy from sleep, but at that moment she was barely even aware of how she looked. 

It took him a few moments to speak: his eyes traveled over her face, her hair, her shoulders, and in his mind's eye he registered every minute detail, every tiny little change. _Mine. _The thought came instantly, possessively. It was a primitive legacy of his former self.  _Only mine.___

"Hi…" His voice was hoarse, and he cleared it quickly, trying to extinguish the desire that had flared up at the sight of her. "I just…"

"Wanted to see if the room was to my liking?" she teased him, unaware of the havoc she was wreaking on his senses. "Why, thank you, kind sir."

He eventually found his voice again. "Fred is making breakfast downstairs. Or she's trying to, anyway," he admitted, gracing her with a rare smile. He didn't see the way she reacted to that smile, that way she stored it carefully away into her memory, to look over later on and enjoy. 

It was unrealistic, the love they shared for each other. It was also priceless, because it had come to them instead of any of six billion other people, and they both knew it. 

And yet the Slayer and the Angelic One kept apart, fully aware of the consequences their love would bring. But they also knew, instinctively, that the intensity of their love would never fade, and they found ways to show it. Little ways, but important ones nonetheless.

"Sounds good to me," she said cheerfully. "Tell her I'll be down in a minute."

He turned to leave, but something held him and forced him to turn around. She was closing the door when he spoke. "And… Buffy?"

"Yes?" She paused, one hand still resting on the neckline of the T-shirt she had just been about to pull off. He registered the fact with another flare of emotion, and almost forgot what he had been about to say.

"I… it's good that you're here." It was a lame sentence, but he didn't need to say any more – he could tell by the look on her face that she understood him.

She shut the door gently behind her and leaned against it, her breath catching painfully in her throat as she struggled with the sorrow that threatened to overcome her. 

She had forgotten what it was like, being near Angel. And now it all came back to her, full force, and as it did she knew she had been foolish to ever think her heart could belong to anyone else. She loved Angel – deeply, passionately, more than she loved anything else she could think of – and every moment she spent with him was slow, sweet torture.

But it was a torture she was willing to endure, if only to be able to spend a few days in his presence.  And Buffy Anne Summers – otherwise known as the Slayer - shut her eyes briefly before beginning the slow and monotonous process of trying to find something to wear for the day. 

**A**ngel could barely believe that she was there. Finally, after waiting so long and going through so much – so very, very much – apart, they were finally together… But, of course, only in the practical sense. 

Angel couldn't be around her without wanting to touch her, wanting to bury his face in her honey-colored hair and whisper all the words he had been longing to say since the moment he left her. 

It had been a tortured love from the very beginning, but it seemed almost worse now that they freely chose to be around each other. After returning all the Potentials to their respective homes – except for Kennedy, who had decided to stay with Willow – Buffy, Faith, Giles, Xander and Dawn had been wandering through most of California in a borrowed minivan, until had Angel offered to let them stay with him at the Hyperion. 

They all thought it was mistake, he could tell that by the uneasy glances they cast at him and Buffy; but he had insisted, and eventually they had been forced to give in. And as soon as he saw her face he knew that no matter what anyone else said, it was _right – _every fiber in his being was telling him so. 

Of course, things hadn't been easy. Conflicts sparked up between anyone and everyone, and hidden emotions rippled through the air like underwater currents. But Angel was sure that they would work it out, somehow. 

And he didn't care how, as long as it meant he could stay with Buffy. 

**TBC**

**Author's Note: **I know, it turned out to be very overly-romantic… only God knows how that happened… I think my words are taking on a life of their own… Anyway, it _will _be a little less romance-fixated in the next chapter, where I could hopefully fit in some real action. 

And, lest we forget, our beloved Spike still hasn't arrived yet… And neither has our Future Slayer, so just bare with me while I get the third chapter underway.

You all know the routine by now: reviews, opinions, etc, are all welcome.  


	3. You, Me, And The Man In Between

**Author's Note: **All right, usually I don't "do" review replies, but as this is quickly developing into one of my all-time favorite projects, I'm going to try my best to reply to whatever reviews were submitted for the previous chapter. I'll keep doing this in every chapter, until I either discontinue the fic or there are no more reviews to reply to. 

**Review Replies: **(In order from the first to the most recent.)

**— Tariq: **I can't even _count _all the requests you put in your review… I have to admit, it seems a little demanding, but it'll definitely be helpful once I move on to the later chapters. 

**— Childrentheemuisnotatoy: **I might not be very clear on the meanings of "phwoar" and "shibby", but I _do_ know that your review was one of the most intelligent and thought-out ones I've had in a long time, and I really appreciated it. 

**—** **Forevermore: **Hey, girl… Thanks for taking the time to stop by, but you really didn't to say all of that… "hello" would have been just as great, and you know it!

**— never look back: **Nice to see that not all B/A fans have abandoned ship; and, hopefully, you'll enjoy this chapter as much as the last two. 

**— UberWicca: **You're the fifth person to put me on their Favorite Authors' list… Five isn't a very large number, I know, but I appreciate it immensely all the same – thank you. 

**— Night Slayer: **First of all… nice pen name! And it's nice to know that I had somebody interested by the time they'd read the opening chapters.

**Author's Note: **I think that covers just about everything, so I should probably get on with the fic itself…

**Chapter**** III: You, Me, And The Man In Between**

**I**t was a dream. It had to be a dream.

Buffy was sinking into a daze; her eyes were barely focused on what she was seeing. She didn't believe it, couldn't believe it… _How? _How was it even _possible_? 

Surely it was some sort of trick, a sick mind game… Someone was trying to toy with her… 

And suddenly, she felt as though reality were slipping away from her: the floor rocked dangerously under her feet, and her sight was blurring… She was falling, and it was so unreal – as though it were in slow-motion… 

But she didn't fall. He moved forward, smoothly and surely, and caught her in his arms. She struggled briefly against him, but at the moment he was stronger. 

He tipped her head back gently, and gazed into her eyes, her face, for a long time. "I thought you'd be happier to see me, luv," he said, his voice uncharacteristically softened. 

A brief, confused, saddened cry escaped her throat, and she turned away from him. She didn't want to see him standing there, waiting, as though everything was fine and she hadn't seen him die before her own eyes.

Without even being aware of it, she clenched her hands into fists. She didn't want to have to deal with another cruel illusion… Not now… 

She could still remember, vividly, what she had felt as she watched him die and had told him that she loved him… She had been hurt by his reply, but realized later that he had been right: she had never really given her heart to him... Not like she had to Angel.  

"Angel…" and he was there, suddenly, offering welcome support by wrapping his hand around hers. With Buffy at his side, Angel stood motionless, his eyes fixed on the open doorway and the figure who stood framed in it. But, unlike Buffy, who was trembling violently in shock and disbelief, he remained totally impassive. His face and tone were expressionless as he gave a brief nod at the figure. 

"Hello, Spike." 

Spike smiled lazily and leaned against the doorframe, hands in the pockets of his traditional black leather duster. "Angel," he replied, his heavy accent ringing so familiar to Buffy's ears. "Are you going to invite me in, or will I have to stay out here all bloody night?"

Angel shrugged. "Your choice." He seemed to understand what Spike was trying to prove: he had been there before. He didn't need to be invited. 

"Good man." And Spike stepped inside easily, swinging one foot ahead of the other, enjoying the effect he was having on the shocked Slayer. 

Buffy tore her hand from Angel's and moved away from both of them, her disbelief quickly replaced by confusion and anger. Spike was dead… _dead_… and yet Angel was acting as though he had been around for weeks… 

Which meant one of two things: either Angel didn't know that Spike had died, or Spike had been there several times after his _supposed_ death. Buffy knew, almost by instinct and without trying to figure out which option was true, that she had been lied to by the only two men she had ever truly loved. And she wasn't happy about it. 

"Calm down, luv," Spike said, noticing her growing agitation. "Angel here obviously has some explaining to do, but -" 

"Shut up." Buffy didn't care how petulant she sounded: she felt betrayed and vulnerable, and all she wanted to do was get away from them. Both of them. "I really don't need to hear anything you have to say, Spike." 

She pushed past him and turned briefly to Angel. "Tell the others I've gone. They'll know where to find me." And she walked away, disappearing into the darkness outside. 

"Didn't tell me _she_ was going to be here, did you?" Spike settled comfortably into a nearby armchair and picked up the deck of cards lying on the coffee table in front of him, shuffling through the deck as he spoke. "But then again, I suppose you knew it was a mistake to bring her here in the first place."

Angel sighed and met Spike's politely raised eyebrow with a cold glare. "Stay out of this, Spike." He  didn't want to admit that his rebellious grandchilde was right, and that everyone else had been harboring the same general opinion for weeks. 

"Whatever you say," Spike drawled, flipping cards onto he table in quick succession. "I didn't come here to visit the Slayer, anyway." 

Something about his tone made Angel look up sharply, and the younger vampire smiled, swinging a single card between his fingers. "No, Peaches, I've got quite another subject in mind…"

"Your son."  

**To Be Continued. **


End file.
